


prelude to a kiss

by archetypically



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Makeoutus Interruptus, this is really dumb tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically
Summary: “I ain’t done anything, Star-Dick,” Rocket says one day when Peter finally manages to corner him with the accusation, with the kind of smirk that suggests exactly the opposite. “Not my fault you got terrible timing.”Or: the many times Peter and Gamora were interrupted, and the one time they weren’t.





	prelude to a kiss

_i._

The thing is, Peter's actually okay with whatever speed this thing between him and Gamora — they can't exactly call it "unspoken" anymore, can they, since they've talked about it and when that happens it's no longer, by definition, "unspoken" — is going to go. No, they don't have eternity (screw _that_ , anyway), but they have plenty of time to figure out what all this stuff means and how they're going to navigate it and maybe fit together. Which is cool by him, it really is, because she has to be one of the most amazing people he's ever met in his life and he just likes spending time with her.

But he's not about to complain when things start to take a different turn.

It's one of those moments, you know? Like something he'd see on TV sometimes as a kid, when a guy and a girl would look at each other and the whole world would practically freeze around them. If they had music right now, it'd be swelling, it's really that kind of moment. He leans in, she's leaning in, too, and, _god_ , they're here, this is actually _happening_ —

_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP_.

You don't fuck around when the smoke detector goes off, especially when you're on a spaceship and you're at least a good few jumps from the nearest habitable planet, so within seconds and without another thought, they're broken apart and running out the doorway of his quarters to try to figure out what the hell is going on. After that, they spend at least an hour trying to get the smoke under control in the mess, and while no one's admitting to starting this, there's a pretty obvious suspicion.

He's not naming names, but, come on, there's only one person (or should he say _raccoon_ ) on this ship with a thing for explosives.

 

_ii._

It's weeks before anything like that moment has a chance to happen again.

That's what happens, he's learning, when you're two-time galaxy savers and the jobs just start to pour in. The units, too, which, hey, they desperately need, considering that the _Milano_ is still about an only forty-percent functional pile of scrap that he just plain refuses to give up on. So, yeah, they've got jobs going one right after the next, with barely even any time to _pee_ , much less sleep, much less put a lot of energy into dwelling on what might've happened if not for a seriously ill-timed smoke detector.

He can't lie, it's a relief to be able to park his exhausted ass on this bed, lean against the wall, and fiddle with the Zune for a little while.

As he's scrolling through the list of songs, he registers the sound of footsteps in the doorway, and looks up to find Gamora. He may not have been planning on an interruption, but this isn't one he minds at all in the slightest.

"Can I listen?" she asks, with a sort of gentleness he's getting the privilege of witnessing more and more now.

He nods, then pulls out one of his earbuds and offers it. She takes it after she climbs up onto the bed and settles in the spot next to him, her head on his shoulder. They listen in silence then, only he's really not paying attention to the song — he's really only paying attention to her. He's stuck on watching the way that her head starts to move a little to the music, on the way that this tiny smile starts to play on her face.

_God_ , she's beautiful, he thinks, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. He could kiss her, he really could.

His fingers lightly brush against her arm, and she turns to face him, gives him that look that, yeah, he has to admit he hasn't been able to get out of his head since the first time he saw it. Without even really thinking about what he's doing, he leans in until their lips are almost touching, and then —

He lets out a long-suffering sigh, which is lost to the ear-piercing beeping all around them.

 

_iii._

There's some old Earth saying he doesn't know why he remembers about how three times makes something a pattern, and at time number three, that's what he starts to think is happening here.

Historically, he's full of terrible luck, he really is, but as the actual authority on terrible luck, he'd be qualified to tell the difference between that and _shameless freaking sabotage_ , don't you think? That's why he has a specific face in mind when he enters the corridor, and it doesn't take long for him to get confirmation.

In the form of a furry tail rounding the corner, as well as the very distinct sound of snickering.

_Dick_.

 

_iv._

It happens a lot after that. Eventually, he gets to a point where he's fed up, but who could blame him? Even some of the funniest jokes tend to get worn after a while, and when it wasn't funny in the first place, his level of tolerance for this is sitting somewhere in the negatives.

"I ain't done anything, Star- _Dick_ ," Rocket says one day when Peter finally manages to corner him with the accusation, with the kind of smirk that suggests exactly the opposite. "Not my fault you got terrible timing."

Peter opens his mouth to argue, to say literally anything at all, but nothing comes out. Rocket, meanwhile, walks off, smirking like the furry little asshole he is the whole time.

It's partially because of that, because Rocket's a dick and he's still mad at him, that Peter stays back on the ship instead of going out for drinks with most of the team the next time they make a stop on Knowhere. There's another, more compelling reason, though; Gamora appears to have no interest in going either, and this may finally, _finally_ be their chance to be alone without some kind of stupid smoke detector-facilitated interruption.

Only when the rest are gone, when it's just the two of them on the couch in the common area, his throat's gone totally dry and his whole body feels like it's made of lead and he's staring at the floor like a total idiot while he scrambles for what to do next.

"Hey, so, uh —" he begins awkwardly before trailing off, because, honestly, he'd had about four-percent of a plan before he'd opened his mouth, which had very quickly dwindled down to zero.

Before he can form another train of thought, though, she saves him the trouble by bringing her hand around the back of his head, pulling him toward her, and pressing her lips against his. There might be a second, just the quickest second, that it takes his brain to register that _holy shit she just kissed him_ before he's responding in kind.

It's the best damn kiss of his life.

And, he has to say, totally worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't used this account in years, i have no idea how ao3 works anymore
> 
> [on tumblr](http://stooperman.tumblr.com/) if you want to shoot the breeze about these space a-holes or just say hi!


End file.
